


By Firelight

by mantisbelle



Series: Reduced Polarities [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Red Team Locus, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: It's been three months since Locus first joined the Reds officially, and its been three months since the last time Wash found the former mercenary awake at night and alone.It's just him checking in, that's all.





	By Firelight

**Author's Note:**

> And yet another Locington fic based off a tumblr prompt that I liked so much I decided to make it a sequel to another thing. Instead of originally meaning to be about 800 words, this one got about 8000 words scrapped before the final version you see today came to fruition. 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

After nearly two months of having Locus around, Washington had gotten used to finding the man up during the early, ungodly hours of the morning, always alone and always indulging in his solitude in some way- many of those ways being less than healthy. 

Washington had also realized that nobody on Red Team had really picked up on Locus’ habits, if only because Locus worked hard to conceal them and had years of stealth experience behind him that he was all too happy to use. 

_ Locus, deadly mercenary _ . 

_ Red Team Rookie.  _

If someone had told him  _ that  _ would ever be a reality during the Chorusan civil war or even  _ suggested  _ it, Wash would have been sure to take their weapons, keys to any vehicles, and put them to bed because there was no way that they could be sober. 

But now Locus’ presence was just a fact of life, an uneasy existence that they were all doing their best to adapt to. Some were having an easier time with it than others were. 

For example, Washington was sure that the Reds did genuinely enjoy Locus’ presence for the most part. Grif continued to insist calling Locus his partner (whether or not this was something that Locus agreed to or was okay with was another question- specifically, it was a question that Washington didn’t dare ask.) Sarge had seemed to take well to the fact that the Reds now had a legitimate chance of winning capture the flag. Simmons was keeping his distance but warming up to Locus. And Donut… Well, Donut was the type to love everyone regardless of what they brought to the table (and oh, how was that something Wash was grateful for personally.)

And yet Locus spent his late nights and early mornings alone, purposefully secluded from the rest of them. He took his meals alone, often off in his ship where nobody could bother him. He slept with the Reds but only seemed to go to bed once he was sure the others were all asleep. When it came to the Blues, Locus tended to be equally distant. 

Deep down, Wash suspected that Locus was prepared to run the second that even a whisper of his presence made it back to Chorus. 

Part of Washington told him that this was simply a matter of Locus needing space. When he’d first joined with Blue Team he would have been glad to have a way to hide away from the others and get some quiet, but Wash had warmed up to them. It had taken time and energy, but it had happened. Carolina went through a similar process. 

But still Locus stayed hidden away, despite the fact that none of them would have even bothered to question him with regards to his absences. Wash couldn’t pretend that he didn’t worry. 

And that was what brought him outside of Blue Base that night, clutching his rifle as he went for a perimeter check because someone had to do it and Carolina had wanted a night off from the task. 

The warm glow of fire off in the distance had set Washington worried, his mind racing for every possibility for a source or a reason that wasn’t just  _ danger _ . When few came up, Washington followed the glow until he was on a cliff, overlooking a fire that had been set just outside of Locus’ ship. 

Between the fire and the golden-orange glow of the ship’s wings, it made for quite an interesting sight. 

And there, out of armor and jabbing at the fire with a long stick was Locus, hood down and hair hanging in his face, obscuring his features and jagged scars all the same. 

Washington stopped dead in his tracks, a thousand memories and rumors and conversations all flooding to him at once. Locus preferred his armor over his own skin and everyone knew it, he was sensitive about his name (even if he wouldn’t say it,) he was sensitive about a lot of things. 

_ Sensitive _ . Not a word that he would normally ascribe to a mercenary (especially one with Locus’ history or track record,) and yet with Locus as he knew the man now it fit. Locus was sensitive, and deeply ashamed to show it. Afraid, even. 

But- Washington reminded himself, he was on a patrol and if one of the members of the Reds and Blues was out of bed late at night it was worth it to see what was wrong. Even if that person was Locus, and was more likely to refuse his help than anyone else. 

Again, Washington reminded himself that had this been Chorus and someone had told him that this would be his life, he would have thought there was something wrong with him. 

“Locus?” Washington called from the outcropping that he stood on. “Is that you?”

The man at the fire looked up, and Wash wished that he could see through the fire to see what was going on on Locus’ face. Anything to help him decode what he was seeing. Anything to give him a read on the situation.

There was silence for a long moment which was punctuated by a stick jabbing into the fire and disrupting how the logs were lying. “Yes.” Locus called back, and he sounded… tired. So tired that Washington felt a pang of guilt for it. 

He had a feeling that Locus was slipping off so late at night because it was his only chance at quiet. 

“Can I come down?” Washington asked, watching as Locus didn’t move from his seat. “I’m just doing a perimeter check.”

For a second, he thought that he could see the flicker of a small human body of a smart AI projected in orange next to Locus, but Washington dismissed it almost immediately. A figment of his imagination, maybe another shard of the damage that Epsilon had been done to his mind. AI weren’t easy to hide, Washington knew that better than anyone. Also the fact that the fire was there helped. 

The thought of Sigma occurred to Washington and made him shudder. There were a lot of things that he didn’t like to think about these day. Maine’s turning into the Meta was high on that list, and Locus…

Well, Washington couldn’t pretend that he didn’t see the similarities, few as they were. 

Locus looked up at him and nodded. “The perimeter is secure.” He said as Washington drew close. Still straight to the point as ever. That was one of the great things about Locus- Washington could always trust for conversations to be short and not full of tangents. Locus  _ never  _ lost sight of an objective or a topic. 

“I figured.” Washington said, looking down at the fire and wanting to bask in it. He was glad that he wasn’t out of armor for the time being. The heat of a fire near his skin was one of those little pleasures that he’d learned to miss. 

Now that he got a good look at Locus’ space outside of his ship, Washington didn’t quite know what to make of it. Locus’ ship (and he couldn’t remember the name of it, and Washington was about 90% certain that it  _ wasn’t _ named The Locus Pocus, no matter how much Grif insisted on it) was parked, clean, and looked like it could be taken for a flight with a single word.

How much time had Locus spent floating in space in that ship, completely alone? How had he somehow managed to come back  _ healthier  _ despite that?

(Washington knew. They all knew. Nobody  _ dared  _ state the reason that Locus was doing better out loud, if only because nobody knew how to approach it. Everyone knew that Felix had everything to do with it, but Locus wouldn’t say it, that was for sure.)

Locus was looking up at him, with his expression in one of those full-faced squints that Locus was so good at. It was completely analytical, Washington realized. But, someone was going to have to break the awkwardness and try to make sense of what was going on. 

“It’s late.” Washington commented absently as he looked down at where Locus was sitting, in his chair that he must have claimed from Red Base with the fire in front of him. At Locus’ side there was a small metal tin that Washington realized must have been his dining supplies. 

So that was what he was doing. Dodging meals so that he could eat alone, comfortable and in a way where he didn’t have to show his human face to the others. 

“Yes.” Locus confirmed, jabbing at the fire again in obvious irritation. “Is there something you need?”

“No.” Washington replied. “I just wanted to know if everything is alright.” He hesitated, but decided to continue easily enough. “We missed you at dinner.”

“I was busy.” Locus grumbled, burying his face down in the collar of his jacket. “I’m sorry.”

Washington frowned. “Locus,” He began quietly, trying to approach this as delicately as possible. “You’re allowed to say that you are having trouble getting used to things.” And really, Wash was sure that had been enough to overstep the bounds of what was happening. A distant part of him was expecting to be tackled or attacked in some other way, but Washington tried to quash it. The Locus sitting here wasn’t the same man that had been on Chorus. 

He was healthier. That was important. Locus was healthier. Locus wasn’t coming looking for validation constantly, he wasn’t having his strings pulled, he wasn’t grasping at straws to make sense of his own reality. 

This was a man that was just trying to be better, and was, for what he was able to do. 

“I’m doing fine.” Locus said, his voice hard and all of the softness that had been in him washing away all at once. “I just prefer to eat alone.” 

“That must be hard.”

“It’s worth it.” Locus replied. “I can cook my own food and not have to worry about it going missing off of my plate, and it's quieter.” 

“Is that all?”

Locus’ silence spoke for itself. Locus’ silences always did. 

So naturally, Locus’ way of replying was to change the topic entirely. “I figure that you all would prefer me away.” 

“Not quite.” washington said quietly, noting the out of armor issue had been dodged. “I think the Reds and Caboose start missing you fast.”

“The Reds see me plenty.” Locus answered, once again jabbing at the fire. “And Caboose is…”

“Tactile.”

“Yes.” Locus sighed. “Excuse me for not exactly being a fan.” 

Wash couldn’t help the smile and scoff that came with that. When he’d first found himself with Blue time, Caboose’s more tactile tendencies had taken some getting used to. Of course, Washington was sure that he and Locus had different reasons for having to get used to it. For Wash, he hadn’t been around anyone that tactile since York and well… It brought back bad memories. That was all there really was to it. 

Locus just wasn’t the most social person to begin with. After spending so long completely disconnected from his own humanity, Washington partially suspected that being hugged was enough to make the mercenary's skin crawl. Since their last late talk, Wash hadn’t seen Locus let anyone get close enough to talk. 

He tried not to read into it. 

"You'll warm up to him eventually." Washington said, deciding to take a seat near Locus' fire in the hopes that it would make his presence feel a little bit more welcome. "I know that might be hard to believe, but you will." 

Locus grimaced and stared down into the fire, jabbing at it again and and again and moving the logs. If he wanted to, Locus could have absolutely just let the fire burn. He was nervous, Washington realized. 

Probably because he'd been found out of armor. 

Washington sighed, realizing that Locus probably wasn't going to be opening up to him that much anytime soon. "Is there any reason that you're up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep." Locus offered, his expression flat and his tone dancing along the edges of annoyed. "That's it." 

"Are you... sure?" Washington asked, blinking and watching Locus' expression. The way that the man closed his eyes and lowered his head with his hair hanging in his face told Wash a lot in itself. Locus' face wasn't good at hiding the guy's emotions, that was for sure. "Because if you need to talk-"

"I'm sure." Locus replied before Washington could finish. "If I need something, I have A'rynasea." 

"Your ship." Washington stated, almost asking a question but sure that he wasn't going to get an answer. "You know that isn't the same as being around people."

Locus looked up at him, and their eyes met. Every time, Washington was surprised by how Locus' eyes were that shade of grey that managed to be both soft and hard. It wasn't a look that he would have ever imagined on Locus. 

"I do." Locus finally grumbled, looking back down at the fire like there was something there that he needed. "But I prefer it."

"That's not healthy." Washington stated, knowing that his voice came off as a little bit more insistent than it ever should have been. The way that Locus grit his teeth and actually glared across the fire at him spoke for itself. Perhaps he had managed to jab at something that was still sensitive and sore after...

Well, Washington didn't know. That was part of the problem, Locus was keeping so much from everyone and he was absolutely reluctant to give anything up. Based on what he did know Wash was able to draw certain conclusions, but nothing concrete. 

Locus just left him with more questions than he ever would have answers, and that was a pattern that hadn't even begun to fail since Chorus. Locus was anything but an open book.

And now Wash was going to have to dig himself out of a hole and make it clear that he wasn't just there to poke around in Locus' mind. The two of them had more or less left off all of their old conversations like they'd been having on Chorus. 

Really, Washington didn't think that a single word of their similarities had been spoken since their clash at The Purge. "What i mean is that going through things alone doesn't... work. Not really." 

"I do fine on my own." Locus said, but Washington caught something in his voice. There was a twist in his tone, his expression losing its neutrality for just a moment. "Besides, the others like their sleep." 

Washington paused, realizing that Locus had offered him something then and there, as slight as it was. "Do... you have trouble sleeping normally?" Washington started, deciding that it wasn't for the best to cling to that as a topic. He needed to make it feel like an even exchange if they were going to go anywhere. "I do a lot of patrols at night because I can't."

Locus stared at him, surprised, before glancing away from Wash and the fire. Averting his eyes like he was afraid of being burned. "I don't sleep easy," Locus said finally, quiet. "I just prefer that time away from everyone else."

"Nightmares?" Washington prompted. He watched as Locus tensed, closed his eyes, and let himself nod, slow and careful. "Me too." 

Locus seemed to lock up almost immediately over that question, though. That confirmed everything that Washington had been wondering, and it left Wash with a feeling of guilt swimming deep in his stomach that he wasn’t going to be able to just forget about or ignore. 

Washington stared across at Locus, who looked beyond tired. Exhausted. “Do… you want to talk about it?”

Again, Locus shook his head, but a careful nervous hand brushed at the scarring that crossed over the bridge of his nose. Yet another way in which Locus was letting him in while also not letting him in. Washington got up and got a little bit closer to Locus, dropping into the space between Locus and trying not to feel offended when the other man jolted away when Wash’s shoulder brushed against his knee.

“Agent Washington-” Locus began to protest, but Washington didn’t move. “What are you- “

“I want to know that you’re okay, Locus.” Washington said, looking up at the mercenary, who had very purposely turned his face away so that they couldn’t get a direct look at each other. He sighed heavily. “I know that you’re going through some… difficult stuff. It’s not healthy to go it alone.” 

“Why are you so concerned with it?” Locus grumbled. “I don’t understand.” 

“You saved us.” Washington said, letting himself lean into Locus’ leg. To his surprise, Locus didn’t move under his touch. “You’re trying.” He sighed, thinking back to Chorus and all of the conversations that he and Locus had shared there. “And I know that this was something that you’d been thinking about a lot, even before.” 

Locus swallowed hard, and Washington watched the nervous bob of his adam’s apple, barely obscured by the dark shadow of Locus’ stubble. He looked away, and still didn’t move away from Washington. Almost like he wanted it and didn’t want to let it show. “I’m doing just fine.” Locus said, his voice going too quiet and too broken. “I just prefer some… space.”

“I can understand that.” Washington hummed. “I just… feel wrong about you spending your nights out here like this.”

“I like my ship.” Locus mumbled. “And it isn’t as though I don’t sleep.”

“I believe you.’ Washington sighed. “At the very least, let me sit out here with you.” He didn’t quite know why he was making the offer, but i was the least that he could do. Had he been in Locus’ place, he would have been relieved to have someone reaching out to him. For him, it had taken work to get to a point where the others liked him and trusted him. 

Locus was still new to this, Wash knew. The fact that the man was purposely keeping himself distant and avoiding topics was evidence enough of that. Washington even respected that Locus was looking for space. He’d come in from the cold eventually. 

The former mercenary was quiet for a long time, eyes distant like he was anywhere but where the two of them were sitting. Washington didn’t say anything, just sat there resting against Locus’ leg and doing his best not to move around too much. He had a feeling that would just get him forced away faster. 

“You can stay.” Locus finally said. “I don’t… want to talk about things too much, but you can stay.” 

Washington nodded. “I’ll stay then.” He said quietly, gently moving his head against Locus’ leg. It was a little too affectionate, but he could feel Locus relaxing under his touch. Like this was something that the man desperately needed. 

“Okay.” Locus murmured, poking at the fire once more. 

Washington looked up at Locus, finding himself just appreciating the way that the orange glow of the fire lit the man’s face. 

Locus looked good sitting there in the night washed in red and orange, Washington decided then. He just hoped that Locus could come to feel like he belonged amongst those colors, and not just attached to them because of who Locus associated them with. 

He tried not to think about how he liked the yellow glow of flame reflected in Locus’ grey eyes. 

The only thing that ended up keeping him from falling asleep was the eventually feeling of Locus’ fingers brushing over his hair. Washington didn’t say anything, but eventually Locus moved and dropped into the space beside him, letting the two of them rest shoulder to shoulder. 

The fire eventually burned out, but Locus stayed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.
> 
> [I'm on tumblr. Sometimes stuff happens. I'm always willing to take new prompts and questions there!](http://tyrian-callows.tumblr.com/)


End file.
